


Blood Ties

by Fyre



Series: A Little Kindness [18]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Coming Out, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: Tracy had offered to come with him. Moral support, she’d said, but this was something he knew he had to do for himself. He had used her as a mask and a shield for far too long.They knew he was coming up. He’d made sure of that. Specifically Sarah and his dad. Tommy and the kids were going to the pictures and to Pizza Hut, so it would just be the three of them. How he wanted – needed it to be.
Series: A Little Kindness [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628107
Comments: 56
Kudos: 131





	Blood Ties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mia_ugly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia_ugly/gifts).



> Ever since I wrote Open, this scene has been sitting at the forefront of my brain, especially after re-reading Az's reaction to the second batch of Matt photos.

Lovely day for it, Avery thought, gazing out of the window at foam-crested waves as the train skimmed along the coastline.

Everything had gone so smoothly. No delays on the train from London, an hour’s changeover in York with enough time for a cup of tea on one of the benches in the museum gardens in the pleasant afternoon sunlight, and now, the final stretch from Thornaby to Hartlepool.

Tracy had offered to come with him. Moral support, she’d said, but this was something he knew he had to do for himself. He had used her as a mask and a shield for far too long.

They knew he was coming up. He’d made sure of that. Specifically Sarah and his dad. Tommy and the kids were going to the pictures and to Pizza Hut, so it would just be the three of them. How he wanted – needed it to be.

“D’you want me to come and pick you up?” Sarah had asked, and he could hear the latent curiosity in her voice.

No, he’d demurred. He could get a taxi. Don’t worry. See you at dad’s.

The minute he stepped off the train, the scent of the sea air hit him, mingled with the familiar smell of the station. Oil and metal and just a little hint of sweaty, frustrated, annoyed people. Just like every station in every part of the country.

A few taxis rolled up. No doubt the drivers knew when to expect the trains. Hefting his holdall onto his shoulder, he headed for the first of them, giving his father’s address and sitting back in the back seat.

No matter how often – or rarely, if he was honest – he came back, he always found himself remembering the old rows of streets, blocks of terraces all dull brick and lace-curtained. He even thought he saw familiar faces – older now, of course. Weren’t they all? – walking by as he passed. The town had changed a lot as well, but it was and remained the place he knew like the back of his hand.

The taxi shuttled him along to his dad’s house and he wasn’t surprised when the curtain twitched and Sarah peered out. She beamed at him, then vanished, and by the time he’d settled up with the taxi driver, she’d opened the front door and was waiting for him.

“There he is!” She caught him in a hug as he neared and kissed him warmly on the cheek. “Good trip?”

“Surprisingly,” he agreed, smiling. “No floods or leaves on the line or anything.”

She threw up her hands. “A miracle!” She looked him up and down, then grabbed his hold-all. “I’ll go and shove this upstairs. Dad’s in the front room.” She clattered towards the stairs, calling as she went, “Dad, that’s Ave!”

“I think he could tell!” Avery called up the stairs after her.

“Bugger off,” she called back, laughing, “it’s called manners.”

Avery took his coat off, hanging it on the coatrack by the door, then took a steadying breath before walking into the living room.

As usual, his dad was in his chair, watching the telly, but he looked up and nodded in greeting. “All right?”

“All right,” Avery replied automatically.

Heartfelt greeting completed, his dad turned his attention back to the TV and, to Avery’s astonishment, he recognised what his father was watching.

Sarah nudged Avery when she came back into the room. “Do you need a director to tell you sit down these days?”

He blinked in surprise, turning to look at her. “Oh. Er. No. I just…” He waved a hand to the TV. “I didn’t think you watched… you know…”

My work. That work in particular.

“Millie wouldn’t stop going on about it,” Sarah sighed, propping her chin on his shoulder. “He wanted to see what the fuss was about, didn’t you, dad?”

“Mm.” His dad wrinkled his nose. “Bit like that Harry Potter rubbish, isn’t it? Less kids, mind. All the same, these things.”

“Says the man who’ll watch a bunch of lads in shorts run around a field chasing a ball of leather every week,” she retorted, laughing. “And Millie’d kill you if she heard you compare it to Potter.” She tweaked Avery’s waist. “He’s on episode two now.” She gave him a nudge. “Sit in. Dinner’s about ready.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “You put a lot of faith in network rail.”

“It’s sausage casserole,” she replied, making a face. “It’d be ready if you’d shown up an hour later.” She gave him a firmer push towards the small dining table. “Dad, up you get! Food’s ready.”

Avery glanced back as his dad grunted. “Just a minute. The red-haired lad is up to something.”

Of course, Avery thought with a small smile. His father would like Erasmus. He always did have a soft spot for rogues, especially ones who were down on their luck.

Five minutes later, their dad joined them at the table as Sarah doled out generous helpings of casserole. He sat stiffly, picking up his knife and fork in his knotted hands.

“So that’s what you’ve been up to, eh? Playing a churchman?”

Avery nodded. “We just finished filming the third series.”

“Mm.” His dad leaned forward, peering at the bottles of drinks on the table. “Where’s my beer?”

Sarah rolled her eyes over his head. “Dad, you know you’re not meant to have that with your medication. It’s pop or water.” She fetched one of the bottles and he grudgingly took it. Sarah leaned down close to Avery’s ear to mutter, “Sneaky old bugger’s been paying next door’s lad to sneak him pints over the back wall.”

Avery groaned. “Again?”

“Like they used to do for us, back in the day, eh?” She grinned at him. “Bet that’s where he got the idea.”

Their dad ignored them both, pouring himself a glass of lemonade and digging into his dinner. Avery followed suit. Sarah had always been brilliant at cooking. Took after mum that way, even if she did like to add spice to things that didn’t usually have any spice in them.

Dinner talk was the usual: how the kids were getting on, Tommy looking for a new job because he’d been skipped for promotion again, Tracy sending her greetings. Better to keep it light, he knew, until the dishes were away and Sarah was making noises about tea and coffees.

It was tempting to let her keep puttering around, let dad wander back to the telly, but he’d come for a reason and he _had_ to be brave.

“Can…” He cleared his throat. “Can I talk to you both for a minute? Before–” He waved in the direction of the kitchen.

Sarah and dad exchanged a look.

“Told you it wasn’t for no reason,” his dad muttered.

Sarah shot a warning glare at him. “What is it, Ave?”

Avery folded his hands together on the table, squeezing until his knuckles whitened. “I…” Lord, he couldn’t hear himself over the thunder of his heart in his ears. “You know Tracy and I went our separate ways.”

“Of course.” Sarah stared at him, a worried frown creasing her brow. “Is there– are you seeing someone?”

Heat flamed in his cheeks and his fingers ached, knotted so tightly together. “I… might be.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. “If… if _he_ wants to.”

And just like that, he’d said it. It was out, hanging in the air like a bubble, waiting to pop.

Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. “Ave…”

He looked down at his hands again, heart racing like a rabbit’s. He ought to look at his dad. He should have. But part of him still didn’t know what he would see there, didn’t want to know, dreaded it. “I thought you should know. In case of… well… you…” He laughed, a little too bright and sharp. “You know what the press are like.”

A bony hand closed on his wrist.

Avery jolted, startled as ever by any touch from his dad, and his eyes snapped to him before he could stop them.

“Then,” his dad said with a determined and satisfied look on his face, “they can bugger right off.” He gave Avery’s wrist another – and equally shocking – squeeze and withdrew his hand, then turned to Sarah. “Get us some tea, chick.”

“But dad–” Sarah sputtered, still gaping. “Ave–”

Avery couldn’t stop his eyes from welling up. In a good way, though, even if he did still blink hard and force them back, just like he always did in front of his dad. “I’ll make it,” he said, pushing the chair back. “You stay put, Sar.”

Hiding out in the kitchen until his eyes dried out a bit helped. He could hear them talking in the other room and took his time boiling the kettle, warming the pot. All the little stages that their mam had taught them. Always have to warm the pot. Makes it taste better, that.

By the time he carried three cups and a plate of biscuits back through on a tray, Sarah had remembered how to close her mouth, though she still gave him a look that said “we’re going to talk about this” and he couldn’t really blame her for that.

As soon as the tea was drunk and biscuits finished, Avery gathered up the plates, retreating into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Sarah made sure dad got back to his chair and he felt her eyes on him as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. Didn’t need to look to feel the disappointment in her.

He scrubbed at one of the plates. “You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry,” she snapped, snatching a tea towel from the counter. “I’m… I’m… I don’t know...” She stepped alongside him, snatching the soapy plate from his hand. “You never told me.”

He looked at her. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” he confessed. “Didn’t even want to admit it myself.” He dug around in the basin for the sponge and started scrubbing at an already-clean fork. “It– I wish I’d– I didn’t know I _could_.”

“Is that why you and Tracy…?”

Avery nodded. The fork was very shiny now.

“How long?” Her voice shook. “How long have you known?”

The word caught in his throat but he pushed it out in a frail whisper. “Always.”

“Did she… know?”

He met her eyes, pressed his lips together, nodded.

“Christ, Ave…” Sarah searched his face. “All this time?”

He stopped polishing the fork, gazing down at it. “Times have… changed now. They’re… things are _better_ now.” He laughed a little too shrilly. “Safer, even.” He put the fork into the dishrack. “I’m sorry.”

The sound that escaped from Sarah made him flinch and he turned, horrified to find his sister with tears streaming down her face. 

“Oh Christ, Sarah!” He dropped the sponge. “I didn’t think you’d be this–”

“You are _such_ an idiot, Ave!” she sobbed, throwing the dishcloth onto the dishrack and throwing her arms around his neck. “You bloody idiot! Of course I’m upset! I had no idea how hard this was for you and you were just… acting like it was all all right and we– we didn’t help! Or do anything and you’ve been on your own with it and–” She buried her face in his shoulder and he couldn’t stop the tears this time, not when she was sobbing against his throat. “I’m sorry, Ave. I’m sorry!”

“No, you didn’t know!” He rubbed her back frantically.

She clipped him around the ear. “That doesn’t make it _better_!”

He rubbed his ear with a wounded expression. “Ow!”

“Serves you right,” she retorted, sniffing hard. She lifted her hands and smudged the tears off his cheeks, searching his face again. “But you’re all right? I mean… with everything? You’re… you’re happy?”

He nodded, fresh tears bubbling over. “I think I could be. I want to… at least try.”

She smiled, warm and bright, and pulled him down to hug him again. “Good,” she said close to his ear. “But if you keep something like this from me again, I’ll leather you, d’you hear me?”

He nodded against her shoulder. “And it’d serve me right.” He squeezed her around the middle “And in the spirit of honesty, I love you too, you know.”

“Ugh!” She swatted his shoulder. “You’re such a soft lump.”

He drew back, smiling, cheeks warm and wet, and the weight of decades of fears and doubts slipping off his shoulders.

_You’re going to wake up one day and realize it’s lighter._

“I know,” he said. “I really am.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious, my facecast for Sarah is a young Sinead Cusack :)


End file.
